The Wandering Jew — Volume 02 eBook

“Above all, you will have the kindness, my old
and worthy friend, not to be at all astonished at
this new freak, and refrain from indulging in extravagant
conjectures. Seriously, the choice which I have
made of you in this affair,—­of you, whom
I esteem and most sincerely honor,—­is because
it is sufficient to say to you that, at the bottom
of all this, there is something more than a seeming
act of folly.”

In uttering these last words, the tone of Adrienne
was as serious and dignified as it had been previously
comic and jocose. But she quickly resumed, more
gayly, dictating to Georgette.

“Adieu, my old friend. I am something like
that commander of ancient days, whose heroic nose
and conquering chin you have so often made me draw:
I jest with the utmost freedom of spirit even in the
moment of battle: yes, for within an hour I shall
give battle, a pitched battle—­to my dear
pew-dwelling aunt. Fortunately, audacity and courage
never failed me, and I burn with impatience for the
engagement with my austere princess.

“A kiss, and a thousand heartfelt recollections
to your excellent wife. If I speak of her here,
who is so justly respected, you will please to understand,
it is to make you quite at ease as to the consequences
of this running away with, for my sake, a charming
young prince,—­for it is proper to finish
well where I should have begun, by avowing to you that
he is charming indeed!

“Once more, adieu!”

Then, addressing Georgette, said she, “Have
you done writing, chit?”

“Yes, madame.”

“Oh, add this postscript.”

“P.S.—­I send you draft on sight on
my banker for all expenses. Spare nothing.
You know I am quite a grand seigneur. I must use
this masculine expression, since your sex have exclusively
appropriated to yourselves (tyrants as you are) a
term, so significant as it is of noble generosity.”

“Now, Georgette,” said Adrienne; “bring
me an envelope, and the letter, that I may sign it.”
Mademoiselle de Cardoville took the pen that Georgette
presented to her, signed the letter, and enclosed in
it an order upon her banker, which was expressed thus:

“Please pay M. Norval, on demand without grace,
the sum of money he may require for expenses incurred
on my account.

“AdriennedeCardoville.”

During all this scene, while Georgette wrote, Florine
and Hebe had continued to busy themselves with the
duties of their mistress’s toilette, who had
put off her morning gown, and was now in full dress,
in order to wait upon the princess, her aunt.
From the sustained and immovably fixed attention with
which Florine had listened to Adrienne’s dictating
to Georgette her letter to M. Norval, it might easily
have been seen that, as was her habit indeed, she
endeavored to retain in her memory even the slightest
words of her mistress.

“Now, chit,” said Adrienne to Hebe, “send
this letter immediately to M. Norval.”